


used to this

by softambrollins



Category: Professional Wrestling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Presents, Cuddling, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Holidays, Hugs, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Sleeping Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:28:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21943624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softambrollins/pseuds/softambrollins
Summary: "We could've had this a long time ago. Why did it take us so long?" he asks, almost sounding frustrated now. At himself more than anything."Because we're dumb," Seth says bluntly. "And stubborn. And we don't know what we want."It feels like they've both walked away from each other a million times but it never lasts. They always end up right back here. Maybe they should've figured out where this was headed a long time ago.
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Seth Rollins | Tyler Black
Comments: 7
Kudos: 41





	used to this

**Author's Note:**

> This ignores the heel turn, because I do what I want. Also, just pretend that RAW was live this week, because again, I do what I want. (I was really just too lazy to look it up while I was writing this and didn't bother to change it.)
> 
> The soundtrack to this is [Used to This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4RFZpNzNjJ8), and [Easy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X95tylIxAoc), and [Living Proof](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Rr38h0F5kk),... This whole album is about them, okay, I don't make the rules.
> 
> It's been a wild year, to say the least, but somehow I'm still here. Merry Christmas to you, if you're reading this! 🎄🎁 And I hope your new year is awesome. ❤️

After Seth texts him on his birthday, they stay in touch. Seth's been kind of careful about it before, he thought maybe Dean needed his space, to do his own thing, and he needed to focus on his own career, his own goals. Maybe they both needed to move on, put the past behind them for now. Or maybe they just needed some time apart to realise that that's _not_ really what they want at all. At least now Seth thinks it's not what _he_ wants. Or maybe he knew that all along and he's only now willing to admit it to himself.

After RAW on Christmas week, he finally calls his number for the first time since he left. 

"Hey, how's it going, man?" he asks, tone deliberately light and casual, when he picks up.

"Oh, hey." Dean sounds a bit surprised, and he can't exactly blame him. Seth's been keeping his distance intentionally for months, but maybe just reestablishing the slightest bit of contact, their random, sporadic messages over the last couple weeks, was enough to open the floodgates again.

"I'm good, man," he says after a moment. "What about you? You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Everything's fine," he says, probably too quickly. "I just —" He cuts himself off now to take a breath, bites his lip, trying to steel himself before he can actually voice the question he called him to ask.

"I know this probably sounds crazy, but I was thinking, and — Would you mind if I maybe come spend a couple days with you?" he says all in a rush before he just chickens out and hangs up again and forgets this ever happened at all.

Seth squeezes his eyes shut for a second after the words come out, in almost a wince, waiting for Dean to tell him he's completely nuts and he definitely does not want to see him. The last time Seth stayed at Dean's house was for New Year's two years ago while he was out with his injury, but that feels like a long time ago now and a lot has happened between them since. It's almost like they're totally different people than they were back then.

"Oh," is all Dean says, and Seth can't really discern what his feelings are about it yet. Maybe he's not entirely sure how to feel about it himself. 

"I mean, it's fine if you have plans or something — of course you probably do — Or if you just don't want to —" he says, instantly starting to backtrack, sure he just made the dumbest mistake ever. 

"No," Dean interrupts, his voice clear and firm now. "It's okay. I was just gonna use the holidays to chill, rest up, recuperate — be by myself, you know? It's been a busy year, you know, and the next one's probably gonna be just as rough. Could use all the time I can get."

Seth definitely understands that, probably too well.

"So…you're sure I'm not gonna be imposing or anything?" he asks hesitantly.

"No, it's all good, man," Dean reassures him, sounding like he really means it, sounding the same way he did before they parted in April. Like nothing's changed at all. "I'm just gonna be lying on the couch, drinking and watching bad movies. Maybe I could use the company."

Seth lets out a fond, almost relieved laugh.

"Okay," he says. "I'll see you soon then."

*

Seth shows up at Dean's place a day later with pretty much every unhealthy indulgence on the planet that they're definitely not supposed to consume in tow. But fuck it, it's Christmas, and he hasn't seen Dean in months and maybe they both need a break from reality and all its restrictions.

Dean opens the door to find him struggling with his luggage plus his abundance of purchases.

He looks like he's about to burst out laughing at him for half a moment before Seth just pouts at him and lets out a desperate, " _Help._ " 

Dean grabs the bags from his arms to relieve him and he lets out a heavy sigh before following him inside and setting down his suitcase just inside the door.

He turns his gaze back to Dean and he's dropped all the bags on the floor of the entranceway, which in hindsight he should've expected, and then before he realises it, he's right in his space, crowding his body against Seth's, and slowly putting his arms around him in a tight but gentle embrace.

He's hit with a sudden onslaught of sensations and emotions. Dean still feels and smells the same way he always has, and it's like being surrounded by a haze of nostalgia, he's taken back to so many other moments from months and years ago. Dean's arms around him, Dean's hands in his hair, his fingertips grazing against his own, his mouth pressed to the crown of his head.

His hoodie's soft against his cheek, his hands are warm and solid where they're resting on the small of his back. Seth tucks his face closer into his neck, taking in his earthy scent, the way he always smells like the outdoors, like something wild and free that can't be tamed, feeling the brush of his thick beard against his bare skin. Dean's body is soft and firm and comforting against his own and he knows Seth as well as Seth knows him, fitting together seamlessly and naturally like they always do. It's easy to get lost in this moment, like a million other moments before. It's hard to even tell where those ended and this one begins.

Somehow it feels like he's been holding his breath since April and now he can finally breathe again. Seth's been dancing on the edge for a long time with nothing to tether him and now he has Dean's sure, familiar grip to pull him back to safety.

He lets out a long exhale and then wraps his arms around Dean tighter, pillowing his cheek on his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie, eyes falling shut. And they just stay there for a while, not moving or saying anything at all. Like maybe this is what they've both been needing this whole time.

*

They haul about a dozen shopping bags into the kitchen and set them down on the counters.

"I brought wine. And eggnog. And cookies. And lots of chocolate. Like, _so much_ chocolate. And _more_ wine."

"God, Rollins, is that what you came here to do? Fatten me up so I can't wrestle anymore and I'm not competition?" Dean teases.

"Shut up," Seth says, rolling his eyes, but he's smiling at him too. "If anything, I'm also sabotaging myself. But whatever, man, I think we deserve it."

"Thanks," Dean says offhandedly.

"It's nothing. I'm probably gonna suck down most of it anyway, fair warning —"

"No, I don't mean that," Dean says, voice low, shaking his head. "I meant, for coming here. I think maybe this is just what I need."

Dean just meets his eyes, his gaze steady and intent, and Seth feels something unexpectedly bright and warm flood through his entire body, from his core to the tips of his fingers and toes. It feels like all the air has suddenly left his lungs.

He has to physically tear his gaze away from Dean, blinking a few times to shake the feeling off, before turning to open a bottle.

"Want a drink?" he asks, knowing his voice still sounds weak.

"Yeah, sure," Dean says, and he's totally imagining the tinge of disappointment, almost, in Dean's voice. He has to be.

*

Dean insists that he makes them dinner, all by himself, and outrightly refuses Seth's help when he offers it. He can be a stubborn bastard when he wants to be. 

Seth just sits there amused, with a drink in his hand, trying to keep his commentary to himself as much as possible. He watches him as he works, fascinated by the movements of his fingers, the way the muscles in his hands tense and release, the calluses on his palms; his idiosyncrasies coming out as he concentrates and seems to forget he's being watched, forehead creased, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth, all the microexpressions flitting across his face when he's trying to figure something out. Seth likes seeing him like this. Dean's usually completely laid back and relaxed, but when he gets intense and focused on something, it's like he becomes another creature altogether. Someone it's impossible to look away from. Seth's been the subject of that intensity before and it was almost too overwhelming to handle. He thinks maybe he won't mind it so much anymore now.

Dean finally gets dinner on the table — some complicated chicken thing, stuffed with bacon and cheese and fries on the side because it's _Dean_ — and it's actually edible and honestly pretty good, even if he'd never actually admit that until his dying day.

Seth doesn't stop making fun of him though.

"Shut up," Dean says dismissively. "I'm a master chef extraordinaire and you know it."

"More like a master show-off extraordinaire," Seth says, deadpan.

" _Please_ ," Dean says scornfully. "Admit it. You _love_ it."

Seth just makes a vague, noncommittal sound in response. 

Dean just gently nudges his foot under the table with his own and smiles a stupidly endearing smile at him and Seth can't help smiling back until his plate is clean.

When they're done, Dean gets up and goes to grab his plate, but he reaches up to stop him, his fingers encircling his wrist. Seth slowly gets to his feet without releasing his hand, and looks at him, eye-to-eye, close enough to hear his breathing. He can feel his heartbeat speed up a little from where his thumb's resting on his pulse point. 

"You okay?" Dean asks quietly, eyes narrowed at him.

Seth nods at him, the barest hint of a smile on his lips as he seems to suddenly, all at once, realise something. "Yeah, I'm good," he tells him honestly. "It's all good now."

And then he kisses him. It's soft and chaste and only for a second but it feels like everything he's needed for a long time. A moment of perfect stillness and clarity. Contentment. Belonging. It's just an acknowledgment. It's like a _Thank you_ or _I missed you_ or _This is all I've ever wanted._

Dean blinks at him a few times when he pulls away but doesn't let him get too far, wrapping one arm firmly around his waist, the other tangling in his hair to pull him back into another deep, breathless kiss.

*

"We're so stupid," Dean says when they're curled up together in front of the TV but not really watching it, Seth's body pressed up against his side, his head resting on his shoulder, Dean's arm loosely slung around him.

Seth frowns up at him. "I mean, I'm not denying that, but —"

"We could've had this a long time ago. Why did it take us so long?" he asks, almost sounding frustrated now. At himself more than anything.

"Because we're dumb," Seth says bluntly. "And stubborn. And we don't know what we want."

It feels like they've both walked away from each other a million times but it never lasts. They always end up right back here. Maybe they should've figured out where this was headed a long time ago.

"Why'd you text me?" Dean asks a few seconds later, voice small and unsure now.

"Because it was your birthday. And I actually remembered this year. Needed to make up for that last time," he says, only half-joking. They both know that's not the only reason.

"No, _really_ ," Dean prompts him.

Seth lets out a heavy exhale. "I don't know. I think I was just tired of it feeling like there was this...strain or whatever between us. Even if there wasn't. It just felt like you were so far away. And I hated that."

"Yeah," Dean says soberly. "Me too."

"I thought I'd be okay without you, you know. I tried for a long time. But it just felt _wrong_. Like, _I_ was wrong. Like I didn't know how to be _me_ without you." He didn't know how to explain it before, this feeling that something just wasn't _right_ for the last eight months, but it's only now with Dean here that he can put it into words.

Seth swallows hard, takes in a deep breath. He reaches out and laces his fingers together with Dean's in his lap like he needs his touch to find the courage to go on.

"I didn't think I deserved this for so long. And then you were right there and I'd look at you and I'd think... _Maybe. Maybe I could have this. Maybe I could be that person that was worthy of your trust._ And now these last few months, I've been feeling like maybe I'm turning back into that person from before again. With no one to pull me back from the fire."

Dean just gently squeezes Seth's hand in his own in response.

"I thought everything would be good now, that I'd be happy, finally," Dean confesses, like he's been holding this in for a long time too. "And maybe I am, but there's — something _missing_ too. I got so used to being alone that I thought I forgot what it was like to be _lonely_ , you know. But I feel it now sometimes. Like an ache that doesn't go away. Like there's a hole somewhere deep down inside of me that I can't fill on my own. No matter what I do. No matter how many fights or drinks or how far away I go. It's still there."

Seth tucks his face against Dean's collarbone, presses a kiss to the side of his neck. "I'm right here," he tells him, hushed. "You're not alone anymore. Neither of us are."

"I missed you so fucking much," Dean tells him, like the words are being wrenched out of him, pulling Seth's body closer to him. "It's like I couldn't fucking _breathe_ when I thought about you. So I tried not to for so long. But it never worked."

"I know," Seth says soothingly, giving him a rueful smile. "Guess we're both just hopeless, pathetic suckers."

Dean laughs softly at that. He wraps both arms around Seth's shoulders, strokes his fingers over his hair, then leans down and brushes a kiss over his forehead.

Seth looks up at him, right into his eyes, before he says the next words. "I love you," he tells him, finally, completely sure and content that this is exactly where he should be for the first time in years. Maybe in his entire life.

Dean kisses him then, slow and easy, and Seth sighs against his mouth, his chest feeling so light and full that he thinks he could float away on this feeling.

"I think I could get used to this," Seth tells him when they pull apart, but just barely, foreheads still grazing against each other. He feels like a heady, dreamlike trance has suddenly fallen over him, like there's nothing else but this, him and Dean, this moment.

"Yeah?" Dean asks, voice raspy.

"Yeah," Seth says before Dean kisses him again, his fingers splayed warm and tender on his cheek.

*

Dean eventually takes him upstairs and they slowly take each other's clothes off in the dark and learn each other's bodies even better, every crease and nook and scar and pleasure point. Seth tasting every inch of his skin, Dean's hands all over him, taking him apart bit by bit, finding places he didn't know existed and making him feel things he once thought impossible.

There's no forgetting any of this and he never wants to, he's going to remember this until the day he dies.

*

Seth wakes up to Dean sleeping next to him, and he just lies there for a while, feeling his body solid and warm inches away from him, eyes slowly tracing over his soft features, listening to his steady breathing, and it's the most at peace he can remember ever being.

They go for a walk on Christmas morning. Dean knows all the best trails and it's quiet and deserted and it feels like they're all alone, everyone in their houses still fast asleep or opening presents or starting their baking early. Seth would almost miss the cold and the snow back home if Dean wasn't right here with him. A white Christmas isn't really worth much if you don't have someone to spend it with.

Seth reaches out and takes his hand as they start walking back to the house.

"Remember the last Christmas I was here?" Seth says, interrupting the comfortable silence.

It was the Christmas before Seth broke The Shield, and they've never really talked about it before.

Dean nods now, slightly stiffly. "Yeah, we spent all night bar-hopping and got fucking hammered and I can't really remember anything else about it."

"I don't know why I came," he admits. "I think I was just lonely and fucked-up and looking for something. An excuse. A reason to stay."

"And I didn't give you one?" Dean asks, his voice sounding taut and tense.

"No, _no_ , that wasn't it," Seth tells him, squeezing his hand for a second, looking across at him reassuringly. "I wanted to. I wanted to _so bad_. But I wouldn't let myself have it."

He wonders if Dean remembers the exact moment. In a dark, empty parking lot. Dean's body pressed up heavy and boneless against him, whispering incoherent nothings in his ear. His breath hot and smelling of whiskey right on his skin. His hand curling around his own, their fingertips barely touching. All that longing and desperation and heat that had built up between them for years finally reaching its boiling point — and Seth pulling away at the very last second before they did something they couldn't go back from. Not being able to look at Dean's face after that, so afraid of the hurt and betrayal he might find there. Then getting on a plane the next morning like it never happened at all. Seth has a lifetime of regrets, of _almost_ s and _maybe_ s, but that one still stings when he lets himself think about it. Like an open wound. Maybe that was the moment, the moment that could've changed everything. He didn't think he'd ever have another chance. But here he is now, Dean's hand real and warm in his own, his tender gaze lingering on the side of his face, and he's never letting go of this again. Not for anything.

*

Seth makes breakfast to make up for the night before. Dean doesn't protest this time, just sits down and sneaks a few cookies when he thinks Seth isn't watching which just makes him shake his head in amusement.

When they're almost finished, he suddenly remembers something.

"Oh, I got you something. For your birthday. But now it can be a Christmas gift, I guess."

Dean's too busy mopping up leftover syrup off his plate with his last forkful of pancakes to react to that. 

Seth goes upstairs and retrieves it from the pocket of his carry-on.

He comes back down and brandishes the gift bag at him. "Here." 

Dean carefully opens the bag and pulls out what's inside, before holding it up by the edges in front of him so it can come unfurled.

It's a sweater, light blue to match his eyes, with a smiling pitbull on it.

"It reminded me of you," Seth explains, a small smile on his face. "Rough around the edges but a total softie underneath."

"You're such a sentimental sap, Rollins," Dean tells him, but the fond look in his eyes says something else.

He folds the sweater back up, rests it on the table.

"I got you something too," Dean tells him out of nowhere, and that genuinely surprises him.

"Really?" he says, eyes narrowed skeptically.

Dean disappears for a minute and comes back into the kitchen with both hands holding something behind his back.

Seth just stares at him, expectant and a little scared, as he reveals the gift and shoves it into Seth's hands.

"What the hell is this?" he says, eyes wide, as he looks down at the stuffed toy — it's a strange, brown, ugly, hairy creature with huge feet.

"A baby Sasquatch," Dean says like that makes all the sense in the world. "Keep it with you. It'll be like I'm still there. Even though I had to return to the wild." He looks off dramatically into the distance with a long sigh.

Seth just shakes his head in disbelief over somehow ending up here. And not wanting to change any part of it for anything in the world. "You're such an idiot," he tells him seriously.

"You love me," Dean says with a smirk and he can't exactly deny that.

*

Dean has dinner delivered so they won't have to do any work, it's from a fancy hotel or something because apparently that's a Vegas thing or maybe it's one of those incomprehensible Dean Ambrose things. Seth's not gonna complain either way though. And when they're too stuffed to move, they settle down in front of the TV.

"I can't believe the year's almost over," Seth muses, already feeling like he wants to pass out. Maybe he's just getting old or maybe it's the exhaustion from this entire year, physical and emotional, finally taking a toll on him. 

"Yeah, it's been a wild fucking ride, huh?" Dean says, almost appreciatively.

"No thanks to you," Seth points out.

Dean just laughs and shrugs. He's always been the purveyor of chaos and unpredictability. No one can tie him down or tell him what to do. It honestly shouldn't even be a surprise that he keeps shaking up the entire wrestling world with whatever he does. It's just what he does. He's been turning Seth's world upside down constantly since the day they met. He hopes that never changes.

"I'm glad you're happy, though," Seth tells him earnestly. "I hope you keep being happy. Whatever you do."

Dean nods. "And I hope you learn to _let_ yourself be happy," he tells him significantly. "You deserve it. Even when you don't think you do."

Seth sighs. It's been hard, especially without Dean, to find the good things in life and keep them. To just let himself be satisfied and fulfilled. It was never enough, there was always something else to do, he could always be better. But he knows where that road leads. To misery and loneliness and desolation. And he doesn't want anything to do with it again. He just wants _this_ — this feeling, having Dean near, knowing that he can have this now, that this belongs to him. It's enough for him. He's enough. 

"I'll try," Seth promises. "Even when it's hard. I'll just think about you. That's all I need."

"I'm happy you came," Dean tells him, sounding almost wistful now. "I wish it could always be like this."

"It's been a crazy year. For both of us," Seth acknowledges. "But I'm glad I could spend the end of it with you."

"And if the next one's just as crazy?" Dean asks, looking across at him. 

"Then we'll deal with it. Like we always do. Together," Seth says simply.

*

Seth nods off on the couch in the middle of Die Hard and Dean gently wakes him up when the movie's over and leads him by the hand upstairs.

They get into bed and Dean pulls the blankets into a cocoon around them. Seth keeps his arms tightly locked around Dean's waist, face buried in his chest, clinging to him like if he lets go he might break the gravitational pull and fall into nothingness again. Absorbing the feel and smell and warmth of him like he's filling up his reserves for when he's not there next to him anymore. Like he already knows they're going to be separated again soon and Dean's the only thing he has to hold on to. For as long as he can.

Dean cradles his body against him, presses his lips to his hair.

"Merry Christmas, babe," he tells him before Seth falls asleep in his arms.

*

They have breakfast together the next morning before Seth has to leave to catch his flight. Dean's wearing the sweater he got for him but even that's not enough to fix his gloomy mood.

"I wish you didn't have to leave," Dean says, finally breaking the long stretch of silence, voicing both of their thoughts.

"Me too," Seth says, looking down at his scarcely-touched bacon and eggs, trying not to sound as wretched as he feels inside. "But I have to get back to the school, the coffee shop. Real life."

"Sucks that I can't be a part of your real life anymore," Dean says, almost bitterly.

Seth's gaze snaps back up to Dean's face. "Hey, come on. You _know_ you are. You're the _most_ important part of my life. I'm sorry it took so long to realise that."

Dean just reaches across the table and takes his hand.

"I'm sorry too," Dean says quietly, regretfully. "I should've called you a long time ago. I kept wanting to and then wimping out."

"Really?" Seth asks, mouth parted slightly in surprise, in wonder, almost.

"Yeah, I almost called you before my surgery but I thought maybe you wouldn't want to hear from me." He sounds so sad and helpless that it makes Seth's heart twist in his chest. God, they've both been such tragically stubborn idiots.

"What did you want to say?" he asks gently, before he actually starts crying like the completely sentimental sap Dean already knows he is.

Dean looks him straight in the eyes as he tells him the words he's somehow always been dying to hear but never, ever imagined he would. Not like this. Not in any of his wildest fantasies. "That I miss you. That I love you. That no matter what, you're always gonna be _it_ for me."

Seth just stares at him for a moment, absorbing that, struggling to find the right words to respond. Wondering, for the millionth time, if maybe all of this has just been some elaborate dream.

"So, you didn't just forget about me?" is what eventually comes out, one corner of his lips quirking into a faint smile despite himself. It's probably stupid after everything that's happened, but thinking about Dean leaving him behind and moving on for good was the most devastating part of the last year. And now all that lingering anguish and fear that has been tearing him up inside has just been lifted all at once, finally.

"Shut up. I could never forget about you. _Ever_ ," Dean tells him firmly.

"That a promise?" Seth says, because as sure as all of this has felt these past few days being here with Dean, after everything they've been through, all the unnecessary heartache they've inflicted on themselves and each other, he needs to hear the words. Needs something to keep with him, close to his heart, when Dean's not there to hold him and tell him that he loves him. And not just the silly Sasquatch toy that he'd tucked into a pocket of his carry-on with all his other valuables and has to admit now is actually kind of cute.

"I promise. It doesn't matter where we are, what we're doing. We're always going to come back to each other. Because this — _you_ — this is my home. It's always been. And it always will be." He says it like it's just a fact. Like it's always been true. Even when they didn't know it. Even when they tried so hard to find a way to live without each other.

"So, it's official then?" Seth says with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, _totally_ fucking official," Dean says with a huge grin. "The most official shit you've ever seen in your life."

Seth laughs brightly. "I'm happy," he says, and he can't remember the last time he said that and meant it so completely.

"Yeah?" Dean says, holding his gaze.

" _So_ happy," Seth reaffirms. "More happy than I've ever been, probably."

"Good," Dean tells him, squeezing his hand for a second then leaning across the table to kiss him, sweet and familiar and oddly domestic, like they've been doing this for years. "Me too."

*

Dean hugs him goodbye at the airport and he's as soft and warm as ever. Seth closes his eyes and breathes him in deeply, hands clutching at his sweater, their cheeks pressed together, Dean's fingers resting gently at the nape of his neck. 

"Come back to me soon," he says right against his ear before he pulls away.

"I will," Seth says, taking one more long look at him, before turning and walking away. Feeling like he can finally be himself again. He can face anything that comes his way, in the coming year or the next or the next. As long as he has this waiting right here for him.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr link.](https://softambrollins.tumblr.com/post/189853209458/used-to-this-deanseth-christmas-fic-fluff)


End file.
